


The Crazy Season

by molo (esteefee)



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: April Showers Challenge, Crack, Established Relationship, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-24
Updated: 2006-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-17 09:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/molo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Holiday Story in Bay City. *cough*</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crazy Season

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Italiano available: [The Crazy Season](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108807) by [silviabella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silviabella/pseuds/silviabella)



_Bay City. Nineteen hundred hours, Christmas Eve....  
_

The small man grimaced angrily at Starsky and waved his tiny fists.  Starsky tried hard to keep a straight face.

Hutch, who was on his ass on the floor, did not look amused. "Get the cuffs on him, Starsk." 

"What?" Starsky gave the three foot tall perp a quick look and then leaned over Hutch to whisper, "I ain't gonna cuff a midget. No way. Why don't _you_ cuff him?"

"The correct term is 'little person'," Hutch whispered tensely through the white clench of his teeth. "And I would, but as you can plainly see, the creep whacked me a good one on the shin with that pipe wrench."

The weapon was lying on the floor next to Hutch's leg.  He lifted it as if to demonstrate its heft, then shouted, "Look out!  He's getting away!"

"Shit, he's going behind the crate—"

"Get 'im!"

"Ow!  Motherfucker BIT me!"

_Wham!  Bonk!_

"Look, just grab his damned legs!" Hutch said impatiently.

"I'm trying! Dammit, can't you give me a hand—?"

In the end Hutch had to crawl over to help subdue the dangerous criminal. Starsky suffered a black eye and one bite mark.  Fortunately, it didn't break the skin.

The jury was still out on Hutch's shin.

 

_Fifty minutes later...._

"It's the holiday crazies—there's no other explanation," Starsky said, peering with his good eye at the ten year-old shoplifter.  "People think they can get away with anything come Christmas."

"Well, what are you waiting for?  Go ahead and cuff her."

"I ain't cuffin' a ten year-old girl, Hutch!"

"Starsk—"

"I mean, look at those sad eyes. The kid's obviously got no one at all.  Remember Molly?  Remember how sweet she—ow!  Shit!  Shit!"

"Look out, she's getting away!"

"Dammit, I think the little bastard busted my nuts!"

"I've got her! Come here, you....Owf!  By mouf!"

 

_Forty minutes later..._

"Throw me that ice pack when you're done with it, would ya?"

"By lib is still bleeding."

"Poor baby."  Starsky finished the report and signed it, then tossed it in the pile.  He looked around the deserted squad room before giving Hutch a heart-stopping grin. "Tell you what—after shift I'll take you home for some hot chocolate, and we'll sing some nice Christmas carols. Put us right back in the mood."

"No! No caroling!" Hutch said firmly, dropping the ice pack.  "Starsky, you know I love ya, but you should never, _ever_ sing—"

The tragic pout would have melted a heart ten times more frosty than Hutch's. 

"...EXCEPT for me alone," he amended glumly, to the resurgence of Starsky's brilliant grin.

"I'll serenade you so sweet tonight," Starsky said, his voice husky.  "Just you, baby."

"Oh, goody," Hutch most carefully did not say, instead pasting a weak smile on his face.

"All we have to do is get through the next three and a half hours," Starsky said. "Then we're home free."

_Forty-two minutes later...._

"Don't even say it, Hutch."

"Starsky, I'm the one with the fat lip and the broken shin, so if you _dare_ say you aren't gonna arrest—"

"I ain't gonna cuff Santa Claus!  Not on your life. That's like a high holy sin!"

"Now, boys, there's no need to get excited. I promise I'll come quietly."

"Yeah, sing me another one, fat boy."

"Hutch! You shouldn't talk to Santa like that."

"Dammit, just read him his rights, then...shit! Watch out, Starsk! The elf has a shotgun—" 

_Blam!  Blam!_

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in court. You have the right to consult with an attorney and to have that attorney present during interrogation. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided at no cost to represent you...."

 

_One hour, fifteen minutes later...._

"We might have to give you a rabies treatment for this, Detective."

"What?  Why?"

"You did say you were attacked by a bat?"

"No, no. A cat. Well, I think it was a cat. Starsky, what was that thing?"

"It looked like a possum.  How's your ass feel?"

"Just terrific."

"This might sting a bit, Detective...."

 

_Forty-five minutes later...._

" _Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg_ —"

"Do you _mind_?"  Hutch cracked open the window.

Starsky braked suddenly. "Wait a minute...what's that?"

"No. I don't care. I just don't—"

"It looks like...a guy wearing the rear half of a reindeer costume."

"Just keep driving, Starsky."

_Blam! Blam!_

"Shit!  Rudolph's ass is armed!"

 

_Eighteen minutes later...._

"Well, that's it."  Starsky handed the perp over to a uniformed officer, who hauled him away with a sardonic grin. "You think you've seen everything, but turns out you're dead wrong."

Hutch leaned heavily on the hood of the Torino and blotted his forehead with his sleeve. "Well, we _knew_ the rest of Santa's crew was out there somewhere—"

"No, not that.  I mean _that._ " Starsky pointed across the street at a hooker in a shiny green dress and four inch red heels.

"My God. What's that pinned to her ass?"

"Looks like a big clump of mistletoe." Starsky grinned and waved his hand. "Behold! The spirit of Christmas." 

"Can we _please_ go home now, Starsk?"

 

_Twenty-nine minutes later...._

"Ah, home sweet, sweet home."  Starsky took off his jacket and started to strip off his holster, but Hutch stopped him with one hand.

"Leave it on."

"Wha—?" 

"Still one minute left."  Hutch limped to the kitchen and came back out with two ice packs and two beers.

They sat on the couch, icing their wounds and drinking silently for another fifty seconds.

"Merry Christmas, Starsk." 

"Merry Christmas, babe."

_Clink._

"How's your ass feel?"

"Well, I dunno." Hutch rubbed his chin.  "It's kind of a tender subject."

Starsky wiggled his fingers. "Could use some of that ol' Starsky Christmas magic, huh?"

"Lucky for me I keep a personal supply."

  


  
_Finis._   


December 24, 2006  
Larkspur, California

  



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